


Say Something

by hermacology



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Herbologist Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger-centric, Hogwarts crush, Neville Longbottom is a Good Friend, Nevmione, Slow Burn, They should probably talk to each other, not really canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermacology/pseuds/hermacology
Summary: Five years after the war, Hermione finds herself harboring a crush for her long time penpal. Neville who was strong enough to survive, Neville who was brave enough to kill Nagini, Neville who had been her friend since first year, Neville who would twist his own ankle to avoid stepping on a plant. Neville who had a girlfriend. When he makes his way back to England, will Hermione find what she needs in her oldest friend?
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom
Comments: 12
Kudos: 76





	1. 1. Say Something

**Author's Note:**

> I've been consistently reading fanfiction since 2008, but I haven't brought myself to write anything in probably 5 or more years. First time writing Harry Potter in a long while. Please let me know what you think!

_Dear Hermione,_

_Thank you for the notes about the Fireseed Bush. I don’t know that I would have been able to get the cuttings to take if you hadn’t told me to add the ashes to the soil. Thank you for taking the time to dig into that for me. You’re an absolute angel. I want to explore the idea of using it for frostbite treatment, but I think we both know where my potions skills stand. If I can get you some of the sap do you think you would want to give it a shot? Or maybe you know someone in research at St. Mungo’s who could do something with it?_

_At any rate, I have something for you that I’ll be sending your way. I think you’ll be right pleased with it, but I suppose we’ll just have to see, won’t we?_

_We’ve been in Majorca now for about 3 months and I know that I am definitely ready to start looking elsewhere for my next adventure. Any ideas for my next trip?_

_Hannah and I are going to get the house sorted and closed up, and I guess then it’ll be time to move on. Somewhere green, maybe? Cold? I’ve been in Spain long enough that I don’t think this sunburn will ever go away._

_I think you should be getting your surprise in the next couple of days, by the time you get this letter._

_Yours Always,_

_Neville_

Hermione ran a finger across the signature on the letter. Since leaving Hogwarts, Hermione had been spending most of her waking hours in the halls of the Ministry. When she wasn’t working on research for work, she could often be found completing research for her own pet projects, or helping Neville with the herbology research he couldn’t complete from the road. 

Neville had taken off after killing Nagini, and had spent the last few years criss-crossing Europe looking for the rarest plants that he could find. When he couldn't find the information on the plants that he needed in the books he took with them, he would send a note to Hermione asking for her help. Not only was her personal library beginning to grow out of control, but she had almost unlimited access to the Ministry Library with its wealth of research opportunities for her. She would put together the most relevant information that she could find on a given plant’s pedigree, and then send it off to Neville, who continued to remain abroad. With Hannah. His girlfriend. 

Although Neville had been abroad for close to 5 years now, she likely communicated with him just as frequently as she did with any of her friends who stayed in England. It wasn’t often that she found the time to sit around and do nothing, and on the off chance that she did, she’d rather sit down and read a book that she’d picked for fun than sit in a dirty pub. Not that she doesn’t love her friends. But she was the only single one left in the lot, and she was beginning to feel more and more disappointed every time she returned to her flat after a night out with all of the happy couples. 

But Neville. The years of continuous communication with him since Hogwarts had brought them closer. He had remembered more of her birthdays than Harry and Ron had, _and_ had managed to send gifts ahead for her. He remembered what she had going on in her life, and always remembered to check in after a big deadline, and remind her to take a minute for herself. He recognized the work she did for him. At some point she had stopped thinking of him as the same lost little boy on the Hogwarts Express searching for a missing frog. When he wrote to her of his travels, of his adventures… the way that he described the plants he was finding and provided her with such detailed drawings of everything that he catalogued. At some point, she had begun to think of Neville as something less like that boy, and something more akin to a man. 

Albeit, a man in a relationship. 

Neville was simply the man she talked to most frequently, and she certainly had no desires to do anything to ruin what he had with Hannah. Hannah was nice, if a little quiet, and Hermione wasn’t exactly the time to insert herself into the middle of a happy relationship-- despite whatever Rita Skeeter might claim. No, she told herself, it wasn’t Neville himself that she found herself so pulled to. Rather, it must be the passion, the excitement, the desire to learn and to share his findings that he had, even if that thirst was focused entirely around herbology.

This letter was a lot shorter than most of the ones he usually sent, but if he was planning to move then she couldn’t exactly blame him. Glancing at the clock on the microwave, she realized she didn’t have enough time to pen a reply to him before she headed to work, so she drained her cup of tea and, stepping into the fireplace, whirled her way into the ministry. 

* * *

“Hermione? Hermione!” She lifted her head from the dense text she was combing through on the possible uses of Lady’s Mantle in vision clarity potions and wildly looked around her, trying to find the source of her name. There was no one in her dark office that she could notice, but her field of vision was limited to the small sphere of light cast by the lamp on the corner of her desk. 

_How long had the sun been down?_

“Oh, don’t tell me you forgot! I knew when you didn’t answer your front door that you were probably still at the ministry. I should’ve taken Harry on that bet-- I’d have enough galleons to get that new Nimbus. Maybe then we’d stand a chance against the Kenmare Kestrels next week.”

Eyes finally landing on the fireplace, Hermione spotted Ginny Potter-- or at least the head and shoulders of her. “Hurry up and wrap up for the night. It’s gone half six and you said you’d be ready to floo to the Leaky by seven!”

Right. She’d promised her friends that she’d come out tonight, and that she’d spend some time alone with Ginny getting ready before they met the others at the pub. It wasn’t often these days that she felt like she had an opportunity to go out with anyone, let alone just pop out for nothing but dinner and a couple of pints. 

Even more rarely was she able to spend time with any of her friends one on one. It was much more common for them to go out in a group so she could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Especially now that Ginny and Harry had been married for a couple of years, and Ron and Lavender seemed to be finally reaching an equilibrium point in their relationship. It’s not that she felt like a fifth wheel, having grown closer with both Ginny and Lavender in the years since Hogwarts. More accurately, she didn’t feel the pangs of loneliness until she was in the midst of the group and realized that there was nothing waiting for her back home when she left. 

Even Crookshanks, bless him, had gone on to the great sunbeam in the sky. 

“Sorry, Ginny. I’m coming,” Hermione assured her, rolling up a couple of scrolls and folding a couple of memos to soar down the hallway. “Just let me tidy up my desk and I’ll be right through. Why don’t you take a look through the closet and try to put something together for me that doesn’t look so…”

Ginny laughed, and cut her off. “Of course. But you have about 3 minutes to get here before I’m coming through for you.”

Fortunately for Hermione’s sake, Ginny’s sanity, and the clothes in the closet, it didn’t take her long to wrap up. Flooing into her living room, Hermione toed off her shoes and hung her ministry issue robes up in the hall closet. She briefly considered stopping into the kitchen to pour them each a glass of wine, but upon noticing the time on the clock above the mantle she realized that it would probably be for the best to hurry and find Ginny to change. 

Ginny herself was wearing a soft blue blouse and a pair of brown tweed trousers. So fortunately, it seemed the bar wouldn’t be sky high as to how formal tonight was expected to be. The last time she’d gone to meet them, she’d come straight from work to the Burrow and was severely underdressed to Molly and Arthur’s 30th anniversary dinner. 

Laying on the bed beside Ginny--who seemed to be passing the time by flipping through an old photo album-- was her outfit for the night. It appeared to be a pale pink shirt--silk by the looks of it-- and a pair of high waisted, navy, wool trousers and a wide brown belt. 

“Mum bought them for me last Christmas. The blouse is too pink for me, and the pants are a little too short for me. I think everything might fit you though,” Ginny said, a little too innocently. Hermione knew good and well that Molly Weasley had had nothing to do with the purchase of the clothing, because they looked a little too expensive and a little too in-fashion for the tastes of the Weasley matriarch. 

“Of course,” Hermione muttered with an eye-roll, unbuttoning and shrugging out of her blouse. “Well give your mother my thanks for picking such an award winning combo for me. Who all is coming tonight?”

Ginny trailed a finger across the faces in a picture taken in the Gryffindor common room, tapping them as she named those who she expected to be in attendance. “Harry, of course. Ron, Lavender. Luna’s coming, and I think she might be bringing whoever it is that she’s been seeing. Dean and Seamus-- maybe. He sent an owl their way, but who knows.”

Buckling the belt Ginny’d given her, Hermione slipped her feet into some shoes a color just a shade darker than the blouse. “Then it sounds like we should probably get going. That’s a lot of people to keep waiting.”

* * *

“Merlin, 'Mione!” Harry cried, standing up to greet them. He pressed to Ginny’s lips and one to Hermione’s forehead. “Good to see you. You look lovely. Good pick, Gin.”

Ron lifted his glass in a silent toast, and Lavender smiled at her. “Where’s that blouse from?”

“Gladrags,” Ginny said, shrugging out of her coat and finding a seat next to Harry. “There were plenty left in most sizes when I bought it yesterday,” she added, stealing a sip of Harry’s beer.

“Ginny!” Hermione cried, looking down at the shirt. Ginny shrugged at her, smiling over the top of the glass. 

“You look lovely. And I don’t know where I put the receipt and I cut the tags off, so you can’t pay me back or return it. Oh well. Why don’t you go buy a round-- then you’ll feel better.”

Hermione shook her head and dropped her coat on the back of an empty chair. Everyone chimed in their orders, and she turned to head to the bar, running smack into the broad, warm chest of someone who wrapped their arms around her. 

“Steady on, Hermione. You alright?”

Shouts of “Neville!” came from the table as people stood to shuffle chairs and make room, reaching to clap him on the back or embrace him. 

Ignoring them, he slid his large, warm hands from her back to the tops of her arms. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have crept up on you. Are you alright?”

The noise of their friends faded out as the smell of fresh soil, sandalwood, and rain rose up around her. Her eyes trailed up the broad chest, clothed in a Fair Isle sweater that she’d made for him herself the first Christmas after the war. It certainly fit tighter now than it had when she’d given it to him. The chest and arms of the sweater were far tighter now, and the stomach a fair sight looser. A smattering of hair was nested just below the hollow of his throat, framed by the collar of the shirt he wore underneath the sweater. The hair thickened rising up his neck and onto a jaw sharper than she remembered. He ducked his face a little closer to hers, capturing her eyes with his. Had Neville’s eyes always been so hazel? Had his eyelashes always been so long? With their eyes locked together, a shiver of heat ran down the back of her neck. Her eyes never left his, but she saw the corner of his lip lift in a small smile. 

“Yes, sorry,” she said, shaking herself a little. “It’s good to see you. I’m headed to the bar, do you want a pint?”

He released her arms, letting his hands slowly fall from her biceps. “I’ll just come with you. This many people it wouldn’t help to have an extra hand,” he said, gesturing at Seamus and Dean who had walked in while she’d stood staring at him.

 _Hannah... Hannah… Hannah..._ Hermione chanted in her head as he steered her towards the bar. Although she hadn’t seen Neville in years, she had to remind herself that not only was this still Neville Longbottom, her first friend she’d made upon boarding the Hogwarts Express at age 11, but he was dating Hannah Abbott. Still, that didn’t stop the shiver that ran down her back at the ghost sensation of his warm hands on her arms. 

Hermione ordered and paid for the round of drinks, and the two stood there in slightly awkward silence while they waited for Tom to get everything poured.

“I’m glad to see you,” He said with a smile, resting his forearms on the bartop. “Did you get my letter?”

“Yes!” she cried, remembering that she hadn’t had an opportunity to reply. “Of course, I didn’t expect that _you_ would be my surprise, but it’s so good to see you!”

He chuckled, and lightly bumped her with a shoulder. “Who said I was the surprise?”

She flushed pink and looked down at her feet, immediately feeling the atmosphere between the two of them turn slightly awkward. He’d been back all of 10 minutes, and she’d already said something ridiculous. 

“So how’ve you been?” They asked at the same time after a moment too long standing in silence. 

“You first,” Hermione said, craning her neck to see his face. _Merlin_ , he’d gotten tall. 

“I’ve been... alright, I suppose,” he said lowly, tracing a finger through a ring of condensation on the bar top. “Just about alright. I’m glad to be home, but I don’t know what’s next for me. I got so used to being abroad, but now I’m back and I have no clue really what I’m going to do or where I’m headed. How about you?”

“Not much has changed since my last letter,” she sighed. “Probably spending even more time at the ministry if it’s possible. I actually haven’t been a very good friend lately. I almost didn’t come out tonight, and I probably wouldn’t have if Ginny hadn’t called me down. I’ve just been so caught up lately, and I suppose it hasn’t been very fair.”

“Hey now,” Neville placed his hand back on her arm, reigniting the fire that had run across her skin earlier. 

_HannahHannahHannahHeHasHannah._

“I highly doubt anyone at that table thinks you’ve been a poor friend. It’s part and parcel of being your friend to recognize that you give your full attention to whatever project you’re working on. I bet you anything that Ginny called you because she wanted to help you remember, not to gloat that you forgot. And, for what it’s worth,” he turned and effortlessly lifted the tray of drinks and turned back toward the table, “I’m quite glad you did come out tonight.” 

She wordlessly followed him back to the table, sitting down in the chair she’d dropped her jacket onto earlier. With the addition of Neville, Seamus and Dean, the table had needed to be enlarged. The table that had been a large rectangle when she’d arrived was now a large circle, and the only empty seat was beside her. 

“We’re going to need another seat, aren’t we, Neville?” Harry asked, reaching over to help pass glasses around. “What’s keeping Hannah?”

Neville flushed and sat, taking a long pull from his drink. “She and I broke up, actually. It’s alright, I mean. We’re still friends. But there were a few things we couldn’t get past. So she’s staying on the continent with some cousins who studied at Beauxbatons, and I’m back.”

“Well what’d you break up for?” Ron asked before Ginny and Lavender hit him simultaneously on each side of his head. “Ow! Bugger all! Sorry. I was just curious!”

“Don’t be rude, Ron!” Lavender admonished. “He’ll tell you if he wants to.”

“Not that he has to, or should,” added Hermione making eye contact with Neville. 

“Sorry mate,” Harry said, patting Neville on the shoulder. 

Neville shook his head, and offered a little half smile. “Don’t be. We’re both alright, and it was more or less mutual. It happened almost a year ago now, and we stuck together for a while but last I heard she’d been talking to some bloke she met when we were in Majorca. They’re staying in Spain for a while, and I just took the time to sort my things out before coming back.”

“Well I’ll drink to that,” said Seamus, raising his glass. “To sorting things out.”

 _“To sorting things out!”_ they cried in unison, taking a drink. So there was no Hannah. She couldn’t help but feel relieved-- and then feel guilty for feeling relieved-- to know that Hannah and Neville weren’t together anymore, especially given that he didn’t seem too upset about it himself. While her time at Hogwarts had been focused almost entirely on keeping Harry alive, Neville had been her very first friend there, and a steady and present source of support in her life. He was kind, polite, supportive, so incredibly brave… and now so incredibly fit. She’d thought that the feelings that had started to stir every time she opened a letter from him would have disappeared upon seeing him again. At any rate, she certainly hadn’t expected them to be ignited.

“And speaking of getting sorted mate,” the Irishman continued, “I work with a bird who could use a right bit of sorting if you know what I mean and I think you could be man for the task now that you’re a free man.”

Neville flushed, and lightly pulled at his collar around his throat. “No, I- I couldn’t.”

“From what I’ve heard, I rather bet you _can_ ,” interrupted Ginny. A laugh went around the table, and everyone laughed, including Neville. Hermione shifted in her seat, remembering flashes of whispers she’d overheard between Hannah and Susan Bones in the bathroom of the Three Broomsticks the last time they’d all been together. Yes, she rather bet he _was_ up for the task, if said whispers were to be believed. 

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Neville said, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning his chair back onto the two rear legs. “I’ve been talking to this girl--woman-- for a little while and I figured I’d come back and see if maybe she wants to give things a go.”

“Out with it, Longbottom” Ginny cried out, leaning onto her forearms across the table. “Do we know her? Who is she? Was she at Hogwarts with us?”

 _Yes, Longbottom, out with it._ She couldn’t help the thought as it ran through her mind. There was something about the way that he carried himself now that was still sending a current across her skin. Back and forth, he ran his fingertip across the rim of the glass in front of him with his right hand, the left coming up to push his thick hair back. She could see that his hands were a bit calloused from his work in the dirt, but there was still something graceful and gentle in how he moved. 

“Yes,” he sighed, falling heavily back onto all four chair legs. “She was at Hogwarts with all of us.”

“Don’t tell me you’re about to start spilling secrets without everyone here,” a soft, high voice said from a few feet behind the group. Everyone on that side of the table turned as all eyes landed on Luna Lovegood. 

“Luna!” they all cried, except Hermione who felt a peculiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

“Where’s this lad I’ve heard you’ve gone and caught?” Lavender asked, “I thought you were going to bring him tonight? We all want to meet him.”

“You don’t have to meet him, you all already know him. Hello, Neville.”

That would explain the sinking feeling, then. 


	2. I'm Giving Up On You

_ “Luna!” they all cried, except Hermione who felt a peculiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  _

_ “Where’s this lad I’ve heard you’ve gone and caught?” Lavender asked, “I thought you were going to bring him tonight? We all want to meet him.” _

_ “You don’t have to meet him, you all already know him. Hello, Neville.” _

_ That would explain the sinking feeling, then.  _

* * *

Hermione had heard the rumors that during their seventh year, while she, Harry, and Ron had been off horcrux hunting, that Neville and Luna had formed quite the team in ensuring that Hogwarts remained a place of relative safety for as many students as possible. It only made sense that they had formed some sense of a bond together during that time. And Luna was great! Very pretty. So she was very happy, of course, for the two of them.

She forced her mouth into a beatific smile, which she directed at the two of them. Neville looked a little bit confused at her eagerness, but managed a small smile back at her. For a moment, she had let herself imagine  _ what if.  _ What if there could be something between the two of them, how that he and Hannah were separated.

But that kind of dreaming wouldn’t do. Not if he and Luna were together now. She let her eyes slip away from his and began worrying a finger into a knot on the wooden tabletop. 

“But I don’t know that I’m ready to share every detail with you all. It’s been nice having something that’s just for me to know,” Luna finished with a faraway look in her eyes.

“Aren’t you the only one who knows anything about  _ most _ of the things you talk about? Ow! Hit me again, Ginny. See what I do to you…” Ron grumbled at his sister, rubbed his side where she had driven her elbow. 

“Be nice to Luna. Let her have her secrets,” Ginny hissed at her brother. “Just because you don’t know the difference between a crumple horned snorkack and a blibbering humdinger doesn’t mean you need to be rude.”

Ron rolled his eyes at her. “Alright then, Newt Scamander. You tell me the difference then.”

“Merlin knows I don’t. But if Luna does, then we’re going to take her word for it.”

“Relax, you two,” Harry began. “Sometimes we can all be together as friends without needing to be groups of couples. I’m sure that those among us who aren’t in a relationship would appreciate it,” Harry finished, conjuring a chair for Luna between Neville and Dean.

“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione said, taking a long pull from her beer. Yes, the single  _ one  _ in the group certainly appreciated not having it rubbed in her face. 

“And besides, it’s Neville’s first day back with all of us. I’m sure that we’d rather talk about something else for now,” Luna added. 

With that everyone else at the table broke into different conversations. Luna turned bodily towards Hermione, and asked in the slightly detached way of hers, “Have you still been seeing that man from the Department of Records?”

Neville looked up and lifted one eyebrow, being the only other person within earshot. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, Hermione.”

Hermione couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed. “I’m not. He took me to lunch a couple of times, and we went out for dinner and drinks only once. But we haven’t spoken in a few months now.”

“What happened? I thought he seemed nice from what you said,” Luna asked. 

“He was nice enough,” Hermione started, spinning her coaster on the table to busy her hands. What was she supposed to say? He was nice enough, but not nice enough for me? He was funny, but not funny enough? He was handsome, but not handsome enough? 

“He just…” Hermione sighed, “He wasn’t someone that I could see myself with for the long term. There wasn’t anything wrong with him, I just don’t think that we would have been very happy together.”

“Your lobster,” Luna said with a confidence that belied her words. 

“Her… Lobster?” Neville asked, leaning in closer. 

“Her lobster. My cousin Phoebe lives in America and she wrote to me about it once. Lobsters mate for life, and nothing will split them up. She said you can see lobsters in their tanks holding hands. He wasn’t your lobster.”

“I’m not sure that’s true…” Hermione said.

“True or not, it’s a nice sentiment, Hermione. Have you found your lobster yet, Luna?”

Luna nodded furiously. “Yes, I’m quite sure of it. I don’t think that I’ve ever been happier than I am now. How about you, Neville?”

Neville shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “I’d like to think that I have. We’ll see now that I’m back in the country. Who knows? Maybe when I tell her that I’m just mad about her, she’ll tell me to hop on a broom and take to the skies.”

Luna laughed lightly and smiled at him. “For some reason, I don’t think that you have to be too worried about that.”

Neville smiled at the pretty blonde, “I certainly hope you’re right.”

Hermione felt that tightness in her chest again. The two of them were almost nauseatingly cute, and while she was happy for them, she couldn’t help but feel as though she had lost something. She’d never truly seen Neville as more than a friend when they’d been in school, and by the time she’d realized that the passion he felt for everything that fascinated him ignited something in her, he was with Hannah. And now, with Luna. 

As the night went on, Hermione continually found her eyes drifting towards Neville’s. The addition of Luna at the table had left him no longer directly across from her but slightly off to the side, and as she spoke with those around her she found herself darting quick glances toward him.

He wasn’t always looking back at her, which allowed her to take in the tightness of his sweater over his chest, the pink of his lips, the rasp of the stubble across his jawline, the flush on his cheeks when he laughed which grew slightly darker the more he drank. 

The glint of his hazel eyes in the light of the bar when he  _ was  _ looking back at her caused her heart to pound so fiercely that she was sure someone looking at her throat would be able to keep time to the beats. How had she managed not to know about him and Luna? She had been exchanging letters with him the entire time he’d been gone, and while they didn’t often stray too far into the personal, it was surprising that he hadn’t told her about leaving Hannah, or starting something with Luna.

This was Neville. The same boy who had been almost in the background of her entire life, but had been a solid thread through her time in the magical world. He had been a shoulder to cry on in first year when Harry and Ron hadn’t yet decided to be her friends, he had been beside her in the stands of every Quidditch game she’d attended, he’d pushed a cup of tea towards her in the great hall every morning that she’d been up too late studying to get a good night’s sleep. And here he sat, in a slightly too small sweater that had taken her almost 6 months to make, meeting her eyes on many of her quick and furtive glances. He deserved more than her covetous looks when she knew that whatever it was she was feeling couldn’t be requited. 

She probably wasn’t equipped to handle this tonight. She’d had a long day at work, had been almost surprised with going out, hadn’t had much to speak of for lunch, had skipped dinner entirely, and had one (or three) too many drinks. She felt warm and a little dazed, and knew that she wasn’t mentally prepared to delve into the depths of her attraction to him. Was it purely infatuation based on his personality in the letters they’d exchanged? Sentimental yearning for a comfort she hadn’t had since Hogwarts? Or something else based on the roughness of his hands, the tightness of that sweater, or the way that his tongue kept peeking out to lick his lips after every drink he took?

No, she definitely wasn’t ready to have that conversation with herself tonight. 

She stood slowly, swaying a bit as she shrugged her jacket on. “I think I need to head home. I’ve had a long day and I think I need to find something more substantial to eat than anything that Tom’s got behind the bar.”

Harry and Ron each absently raised a hand in unison to wave goodbye, but neither looked away from their conversation with Seamus and Dean over which team would likely progress in the bracket for the next World Cup. 

Ginny reached over and squeezed her around the middle while she fought to get her jacket on, and Lavender gave her a somewhat shy wave from Ron’s side. 

Only Neville stood when she did, leaving Luna’s side to walk over and pull her jacket from her arms, helping her slide her hands into the sleeves. 

“Do you mind if I head out with you? I haven’t had an opportunity to eat much today and I definitely don’t want to try to bumble about in the kitchen and possibly wake Gran when I get in.”

He wanted to leave with her? That didn’t make any sense… why would he stand and leave Luna behind to walk her home? Right. Because he’s Neville Longbottom, and his duty to his friends-- that unerring loyalty-- would always supersede every other obligation in his life. 

“Will Luna be alright if you leave with me?”

He looked at her oddly, and lightly rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sure? Everyone else is staying for a while, so it’s not like she’s alone. I can stay here if you’d rather leave alone…”

“NO!” Hermione cried. “That’s fine. I’d love it if you joined me.” He gave her that same small smile she’d seen throughout the night, and waved to their friends, gently placing a hand on her lower back and steering her through the crowded bar to the door. As soon as they crossed over the threshold, his hand fell from her back, but she could still feel the ghost of its warmth through her shirt. He was just leading her through the crowded bar-- that’s the only reason he would have let his hand linger on her back in such a way. 

They crossed over into Muggle London, and she pointed him in the direction of a chippy she knew of a couple blocks away. It had cooled down a bit after the sun had set, and while the outfit prepared by Ginny was rather fetching, it wasn’t particularly warm. She wrapped her arms around her middle, to stave off the cold. 

“A little colder than Spain, I reckon,” she told him with a laugh. 

“Only a little,” he smiled back, pulling out this wand and casting a light warming charm on the both of them as they continued down the sidewalk. “I can’t say I’d rather be back there, though.”

Hermione shook her head, and chanced a quick glance at him. “I’m sure there’s plenty of things about Spain that you’ll miss.”

“Not really,” he said, flushing slightly under the light of a lamp they passed below. “I think I’ve found that England has certain… charms… that I’m not sure I’m willing to do without.”

Well what on earth was that supposed to mean? She still wasn’t quite ready to figure out how she felt about him, and now that Luna was part of the picture there wasn’t really a reason for her to. But standing close to him, the feeling of his magic from the warming charm still on her skin, she wasn’t sure that she could afford to ignore how she felt if she was going to stay his friend-- especially if he was going to keep saying things that sounded almost like flirting to her ears.

“Besides, you wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find a decently fried piece of fish on Majorca.”

She laughed, resolving herself to stay focused on whatever was happening now, and to worry about the rest later. Regardless of what conclusion she came to, Neville was first and foremost her friend, and she wouldn’t miss the time with him because she was too busy looking at how well he filled out his trousers to listen to what he was telling her. 

* * *

The two of them ended up on a park bench not far from the chippy, takeout containers on their lap. 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what happened with Hannah? You two seemed so well suited.”

Neville quickly chewed the chips he’d been eating, and turned on the bench to face her. “You’re right. We were well suited. I loved her a lot, and she was my first real relationship. I’m glad that we spent the last five years travelling together, and I can’t say that I would change it for anything.”

Well, she probably should’ve expected that. Even knowing that he and Hannah weren’t still together, it was still a difficult thing to hear. But Neville was still talking. 

“Hannah’s lovely, inside and out. And there’s part of me that will always love her. But-- to borrow Luna’s metaphor-- she’s not my lobster. We parted ways for a couple of months so I could search for some blackwort in Portugal. I realized about a month after leaving that I hadn’t missed her nearly as much as I should have while we were apart. I came back ready to break things off with her, which ended up being fortunate. She’d met a chef from Majorca and was feeling strongly for him, but felt guilty. It seemed to make more sense for me to step out of the picture. She and I will likely always be friendly, but I don’t think that was enough for us.”

Hermione nodded slowly, focusing on the fish in her lap. Hannah hadn’t been his lobster. But Luna might be? 

“I always thought that the woman I was meant to be with would send shivers down my spine, would make my heart race, would keep me awake at night when I laid in bed because I couldn’t get her out of my head… And while Hannah was perfectly lovely, she was comfortable. I could easily live with her, but I could just as easily live without her. And when I realized that, I realized that there was someone back here that I didn’t think I  _ could _ live without anymore. It made sense to say goodbye and come home.”

Hermione nodded again, her heart racing. She knew all too well what he was describing. She was very familiar with those feelings. She’d felt the shivers and the racing heart in the hours since going out that night-- and no doubt she would lie awake in her bed after she went back to her flat, remembering how warm his hand felt on her lower back, and the way he’d dragged his hands down her arms when she’d crashed into his chest on her way to the bar. 

“It’s getting late,” she said, not addressing what he’d said. “And I had a long day at work, and I should probably head home. I’ve had quite a lot to drink tonight, and I think what I need is a good night’s sleep to set me to rights.”

Neville slowly nodded, and grabbed both of their styrofoam containers, tossing them into a trashcan nearby to the bench. 

“Are you going to be able to apparate home?”

Hermione nodded, staring at her shoes. She desperately needed a glass of water and a full night’s sleep. 

“Yes, I think I am. I’m glad that you’re back, Neville.” 

He smiled at her, and took a step toward her, gently placing his hands on the top of her shoulders. “I’m glad to be home. I do have a surprise for you-- besides me, I mean. Do you think that we could meet at some point in the next couple of days so I can give it to you? You could come by the house to pick it up. I’m sure Gran would love to see you.”

She nodded, and he trailed his hands down her shoulders, to her biceps, and then down to her hands. He pulled her to him, and hugged her tightly for a moment before letting her go again. 

“I hope you get a good night’s sleep, Hermione. I have a feeling I’ll have a hard time falling asleep tonight.”

She offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“I’ll send you an owl to work out when to come by to visit. Good night, Neville,” she said, before apparating away.

Landing in her foyer, she quickly checked that the front door was still locked before leaning heavily against the door and sliding down to sit on the floor. 

Placing her head in her hands on the floor of her dark, empty flat, Hermione Granger began to cry. 


	3. The Way I Am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were falling  
> Then I would catch you  
> You need a light  
> I'd find a match
> 
> If you are chilly  
> Here, take my sweater  
> Your head is aching  
> I'll make it better
> 
> Cause I love the way you say good morning  
> And you take me the way I am
> 
> "The Way I Am" - Ingrid Michaelson

**July 30, 1991**

Today was the day. Neville Longbottom was finally turning 11, and celebrating his last birthday at home before he would be going to Hogwarts. He loved his Gran, and he truly  _ was  _ grateful for all that she’d done for him, but there were only so many times that he could be denigrated in a day for not living up to the shadow of his parents that eternally hung over the home. 

He knew that at some point he must’ve lived with his parents, but for all of his living memory, it had just been him and his Gran in the small, 16th century manor house that the Longbottoms called home. Occasionally, Uncle Algie would come to stay, but given the frequency with which he saw fit to subject Neville to frights and mishaps to coax his magic out of him, he didn’t quite look forward to seeing his only Uncle. 

It wasn’t that his Gran had purposely kept him from other people his age. He knew  _ of _ other children his age, as his Gran frequently had tea with Griselda Marchbanks and their conversation often turned to gossip. But none of his Gran’s friends had grandchildren or children of their own who were his age, and as such he led a very solitary life. 

Most of his time was spent either in the small library in the manor, or in the garden. He was especially happy when he could find a book on exotic flora and fauna, crawl between the topiaries in the garden— box growing high around him— and read in the sun. 

He wasn’t the fastest reader, and he often had to have a copy of  _ Good Gardens Guide _ ,  _ Goshawk's Guide _ , or the  _ Wizard’s Field Guide _ while he read to help him decode the more unfamiliar plants and animals in his books. He was getting fairly good at identifying common and not-so-common pests in the garden by sight and by effect, and was working on learning how to eradicate each of them. Gran kept the garden fairly neat with a wave of her wand every Sunday, but Neville knew that with manual care, the garden could be the best in all of Yorkshire. 

Gran had planned a joint birthday and going-away party for him, but from what he’d seen of the invite list, it was an excuse for her to have her friends over for tea. Although in just a month he would be getting ready to board the Hogwarts Express, and there he’d be sure to find new friends.

And so he found himself sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs in the parlor, a cup of under-sweetened, over-steeped tea in his hand, while his Gran and her friends talked about any and everything under the sun. 

“I don’t know what they’re going to do to the boy to pull even an ounce of magic in him. There’s more magic in my used handkerchief than in that boy, Merlin knows.”

Neville couldn’t help the blush that raced over his cheeks, and he heard his Gran cluck her tongue. “The first time that Algernon gave him The Test he almost drowned in Blackpool. Fortunately he had the sense to bounce the second time, because I have no idea how I could tell poor Frank and Alice what happened to him.”

“Such a pity,” Griselda said, taking a small bite of a sandwich. “Frank was a dab hand with his wand if I ever saw one, and I don’t think that I ever knew someone as skilled at charms as that Alice. I wonder if it’s having them gone that’s made him like this.”

“Must be,” Augusta said, peering at him over the top of her cup. “I owled Albus Dumbledore myself, and he confirmed that the boy was added to the list of magical children shortly after his birth. I don’t know what magic of his was strong enough to get in The Book, but I certainly won’t question it.”

While Neville did love his Gran dearly, he really couldn’t say that he would miss her once school started. 

“Boy!” 

The sound of his Uncle Algie’s voice from the hallway startled him so badly that he sloshed tea down the front of his sweater and onto his lap. He stood up quickly, trying to get the hot fabric off of his skin. 

“I want to leave! Come in here and open your present so I can go!”

Neville hurried toward the door to the parlor, stumbling slightly as he turned to bow slightly to the women in the room, and left to find his uncle. As he passed the threshold, Algie clapped a heavy hand down onto Neville’s shoulder, pulling him into the foyer. 

“I figured you’d had enough of those old hens in there, lad. I have something I want to give you. Come along.”

Algie steered him outside— cane clicking on the stone pathway— and through the garden, strolling toward the small pond toward the rear of the property. 

“Like scores of Longbottoms before you, you are going to walk the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. Both of your parents were sorted into Gryffindor, and as you know, their bravery knew no match. You’ve been a bit of a later bloomer, but you need to go in there and make them proud. No one in that school is your Gran, so you mustn’t let them tell you who you are. You are a Longbottom. There is absolutely nothing that makes you anyone’s inferior, regardless of what anyone might try to tell you.”

As he finished his uncharacteristic speech, Algie sat on the bench at the waterside and gestured for Neville to join him. Neville hesitated to sit next to his great-uncle, remembering the other times that he’d found himself blindly trusting him, and how it’d worked out for him. 

As if Algie could read his mind, he chuckled and slid further to the side of the bench, raising his hands to show that they were empty. “I don’t need to Test you anymore, boy. You’ll be at Hogwarts in a month’s time, and if you aren’t suited for it then it’s up to someone besides me to figure that out at this point. I won’t be pushing you in.  _ Sit down. _ ”

Hesitantly, Neville sat beside him, clasping his hands in his lap and slightly kicking his feet, realizing that they didn’t quite reach the ground. 

“Uncle Algie?” he started to ask, waiting for the older man to look down at him before he finished his question. “Has anyone ever been kicked out of Hogwarts for not being a good enough wizard??”

Algie chucked, and lightly rolled his cane between his hands. “No, not that I know of. But I know that no kin of mine will be the first. You’re rather good with plants, so I figure you best make whoever the current Herbology professor is your favorite. But you’re a Longbottom. Your parents were two of the best aurors that have served in a century. You’re Sacred Twenty-Eight, you’re gifted when it comes to plants, and you don’t have an evil bone in your body. You might not make head boy, but I reckon you’ll be alright.”

With that, Algie reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a light, yellow-brown wand. 

“This was your father’s. Cyprus, with a horned-serpent horn core. Allegedly, that signified an urge to protect and serve. You have large shoes to fill, but hopefully this wand will help you access your potential. Why don’t you give it a swish?”

Neville carefully took the wand from his uncle. It felt… odd… in his hand. A little too warm, and a little too heavy. It didn’t feel natural or comfortable in his hand, but it was his  _ father’s _ . This was the wand that had saved him from death in the face of Bellatrix Lestrange. He flicked the wand toward the pond, and the water began to roil as if heated from below. The water churned for a moment, before a fat toad flew out of the water and landed on Neville’s lap. 

“Might as well take that with you, boy. Owl, cat, or toad, aye?”

Neville gently cradled the toad in his hands, wand awkwardly clasped between two fingers. 

“I think I’m going to call him Trevor.”

* * *

It had taken Neville almost 30 minutes to find Trevor on the platform and wrangle him into the pockets of his robe so that he could board the train. He hadn’t had any idea that there were this many magical children in the UK, and while he could easily recognize some like the Weasleys and the Malfoys based on their appearance, there were many others who he was unable to name. 

Living alone with his Gran had done him an even greater disservice than he’d originally realized. 

Rather than crowd into the packed cars filled with talkative, laughing children he’d never seen before, Neville found an empty car. He opened his copy of  _ Goshawk’s Guide _ and began reading the familiar compendium of plant and animal life. He’d read the book so many times from front to back that he could have probably told you anything you needed to know about almost any plant you could find in the United Kingdom. He couldn’t wait for Herbology to give him the hands on experience that he needed. Theoretical knowledge of plants was all well and good, but plants needed an actual, physical touch to thrive. 

He’d been in the car reading for close to an hour when the door gently eased open, and a small girl with large hair stepped in, closing the door behind her. 

“Hello, I’m Hermione Granger,” she said, jutting out a soft looking hand toward him. “Do you mind if I join you?”

Neville felt his cheeks turn pink. Her eyes were large and bright, seemingly lit from within by… something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Excitement? At any rate, her eyes seemed to be very dark and deep, and Neville struggled to keep eye contact. Her hair was fiercely curly, and had apparently been well brushed at some point because it frizzed back from her face, held in place by a thin white headband. She was smiling widely at him, and he could see that her teeth were large and white. 

She was beautiful. 

“I’m Ne-Neville Longbottom,” he told her, gently taking her hand in his. She shook it with a surprisingly firm grip. He’d never shaken hands with a girl before. Gran had told him that a proper pureblooded lady would offer a hand, palm down, and he was to lightly grasp her fingers. He’d never met a girl who shook hands, let alone one who shook them so confidently. 

“Lovely to meet you, Neville. You aren’t wearing house robes. Are you a first year, too?”

“Yes,” he nodded, not knowing what else to say. 

“Well at least I’ll know one person in class, then. Do you know which house you’d like?”

“My p-parents were both in Gryffindor. I’d like to b-be p-p-placed there as well, b-but I don’t think I’m as b-brave as they are,” he told her, wishing that he had said almost anything else.

“I think Gryffindor sounds lovely,” she said, craning her neck to try to read the spine on the book in his lap. “I wouldn’t be very upset to end up in Ravenclaw either, I think. What are you reading?”

He looked at the book in his lap, wishing it was almost anything else. She was going to think he was so foolish! He wished he knew enough magic to transfigure the cover, or that he’d been looking at a quidditch magazine, or something else besides  _ Goshawk’s Guide _ . 

“It’s just a b-book on Herbology. It’s  _ Goshawk’s Guide _ . I really like plants, even though they’re p-p-probably p-pretty b-boring. I’ve read and reread this b-book more times than I can count.” 

Merlin help him. His stutter had gotten better since Gran had found him a speech healer around his eighth birthday, but this pretty girl who just kept  _ smiling _ at him was making it hard for him to get his words out. He knew how this went. At any moment, she would laugh at his inability to fluently say his plosives, and go find another seat in a different car. 

“Goshawk? Like  _ Miranda  _ Goshawk? I’ve been reading ahead in our textbooks, and the way she writes  _ The Standard Book of Spells _ was very clear. One of the best textbooks I’ve ever read that balances theory and practice. Not that I’ve been able to practice yet. I think I’ve read  _ Hogwarts, A History  _ four or five times through since I got my letter,” she told him, taking a seat on the bench across from him. “Do you have a favorite plant?”

* * *

September went by slowly, and a bit painfully. Neville was struggling in many of his classes, and had a habit of doing exactly the wrong thing in Potions, to the consternation of Professor Snape. 

He’d taken to spending much of his time in the library when not in classes. It was quiet in there, and therefore easy to focus on his work. He needed all of the help he could get to focus, given how much he was struggling to master the material. 

The Hufflepuffs were typically very kind to him, and their head of house was certainly warmer and more accepting of him than his own was. Why, oh why, could he not have been sorted into Hufflepuff? He certainly didn’t feel very brave most days. Especially not when Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins continued to harass him at every given opportunity. 

Not that his own house members were much better. Considering how fiercely loyal the Gryffindors were supposed to be, he found himself closing in on the end of October without any friends. 

None, that is, besides Hermione Granger. She was also having the same difficulty with their classmates. The other Gryffindors didn’t seem very impressed with her for her near perfect recall of the things she read, or her ability to talk  _ at length  _ on almost any given topic. 

Neville on the other hand, found it incredibly endearing. While he often struggled to make eye contact with her, he couldn’t help but stare at her. She had a habit of talking with her hands, or physically wrenching a piece of parchment out of her bag to draw out what she was describing. Her hands and hair would fly around her, and her face would flush as she sometimes forgot to breathe when she started to really get focused on a topic.

The two of them frequently ended up at the same table in the library, an almost insurmountable number of Hermione’s books on the table in front of them. She had a habit of pulling ten to fifteen books from the shelves and meticulously searching them for evidence to support her essay. Neville liked the stack of books because she would get so engrossed in whatever she was searching for, that she failed to notice how long he’d been staring at her. 

She was one of the only people in their year that had never said anything disparaging to him. She answered any questions he had about the theory or practice of their classes— with more patience and grace than many of their professors gave him. And she never once made fun of his stutter, or sighed impatient while waiting for him to get out his thoughts. He’d noticed that his stutter had gotten a bit better, as the professors refused to let him dodge their questions.

He still found himself tongue tied and nervous when sitting across from her. 

And then Halloween happened. After they saved her from the troll, Harry and Ron were almost always by Hermione’s side. While he was incredibly happy that they had stopped treating her cruelly, he was unhappy as he realized that his time alone with her was becoming increasingly rare. Harry and Ron were often with her when she came to the library. Neither of the other boys liked to study, and often complained frequently and loudly when she tried to get them to study. Her trips alone to the library got rarer and rarer, and given that Harry and Ron still hadn’t exactly opened their arms to him, Neville found himself alone in the library more often than not. 

Hermione encouraged them to include him in their activities, but the other Gryffindors still had a habit of making cruel comments, but now they phrased them to sound like jokes, rather than direct insults. Regardless, he was still grateful to her for trying to include him. 

But after that Halloween, he found himself pulled further and further away from her. He didn’t care for her any less, but every interaction he had with her, Ron, and Harry was tinged with just a bit of something that he didn’t want to associate with his friendship with her. 

Like the time that he ended up serving detention with them and Malfoy for getting caught out of bed after curfew. He had been absolutely terrified that his Gran was find out. But (possibly) even worse than his Gran finding out, was the backlash from his housemates when word got out as to who exactly was responsible for the 50 house points each missing from the hourglass in the great hall the next morning. 

But still worse than the feelings of derision returning from his classmates, was the knowledge that Hermione, Ron, and Harry had created an elaborate lie to get Malfoy in trouble— and he fell for it, too. He was used to the other students making fun of him, or taking advantage of his innocence. But knowing that his so called friends, and Hermione especially, were responsible this time hurt him more deeply than he could have ever anticipated. 

Then came the evening when, after finally catching Trevor in the act of attempting to escape, he caught three others in the act of attempting to escape from Gryffindor tower. 

He remembered asking them what they were doing, trying to leave again, just two weeks after their night long detention in the forbidden forest. 

Harry and Ron tried to refuse to answer his questions, which didn’t surprise him much. What did surprise and hurt him, however, was Hermione looking him dead in the eyes and lying about what they were doing, before telling him to go to bed. It wasn’t like her to break the rules, or to lie to him.

He remembered jumping in front of the portrait hole, refusing to let them leave, before Ron called him an idiot. 

“Don’t you call me an idiot!” he yelled. “I don’t think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people.”

He really thought Ron and Harry had a lot of nerve calling him an idiot, considering how much trouble they seemed to get in week after week. 

“Yes, but not to  _ us”, _ Ron told him, refusing to move. He faintly heard Harry hissing something to Hermione, but he was focusing his attention on Ron, waiting for the temperamental redhead to hit him. He was pretty sure that he would be able to manage whatever Ron threw at him. After all, he’d been knocked around by Crabbe and Goyle for most of the year and he was generally no worse for wear from that. 

“Neville,” Hermione said softly, stepping between him and Ron. “I’m really, really sorry about this.”

He dropped his hands to his sides, looking into her eyes. She would understand. Hermione was brilliant, and ultimately good. She wouldn’t want to get them into any more trouble. She would listen to him, and they would all go back to bed, and no one would get in trouble in the morning. 

“ _ Petrificus Totalus!”  _ she cried as his muscles locked up and he fell to the floor. Hermione rushed over, and was kind enough to turn him onto his back. “Oh, Neville, I’m so sorry.”

“You’ll understand later, Neville,” Ron told him as they wrapped themselves in an odd cloak Harry picked up from the table. 

His heart beat hard in his chest, and he was briefly grateful that he was petrified and couldn’t cry. He just wanted his best friend back. 

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to understand later, because for now all he understood was that Hermione had put her lot in fully with her friends, and she had chosen Harry and Ron over him.

* * *

Everyone in the Great Hall sat anxiously, listening to Professor Dumbledore’s speech as he prepared to award the house cup. Fifty points each to Ron and Hermione, for whatever they had done after leaving him locked up on the floor. Sixty points to Harry for nerve and courage. Slytherin and Gryffindor were tied for the House Cup.

“There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.”

With those words, the volume of the uproar that rose from the Gryffindor table could have lifted him up and carried him around the room. His classmates were screaming and cheering, and people who had never spoken to him before were clapping him on the shoulders or pulling him into hugs. 

Hermione slipped past Seamus Finnegan and wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing tightly. “You did it, Neville!  _ You won us the house cup!” _

He gently wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back. She tightened her arms fiercely, and pressed a kiss to his cheek before slipping away to rejoin Harry and Ron. He had stood up to Hermione, Harry, and Ron— but they had escaped and managed to defeat a professor who was in the school with evil intent. Dumbledore wanted to award him points for bravery and courage, but all he could think about was how brave the three of them must have been to go off on their own and face the unknown. 

Now he understood one more thing, he thought as he lifted a hand to gently touch the place on his cheek where her lips had been. 

He now also understood that he would never love another girl like he loved Hermione Granger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue toward the end of the chapter that you might recognize is taken from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.


	4. idfc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me pretty lies  
> Look me in the face  
> Tell me that you love me  
> Even if it's fake  
> 'Cause I don't fucking care, at all  
> 'Cause I have hella feelings for you  
> I act like I don't fucking care  
> Like they ain't even there  
> 'Cause I have hella feelings for you  
> I act like I don't fucking care  
> 'Cause I'm so fucking scared  
> I'm only a fool for you  
> And maybe you're too good for me  
> I'm only a fool for you  
> But I don't fucking care, at all
> 
> "idfc" by blackbear

_Tap. Tap tap tap. TAPTAPTAP_

Hermione sat up blearily, eyes stinging in the bright light of her living room. She hadn’t made it to her bedroom, and had fallen asleep on the floor where she’d sat down to cry— jacket for a pillow, heels still on her smarting feet. Head pounding, she tried to make sense of the sound that she was hearing. 

The tapping that had woken her was a large barn owl perched on the window frame of one of the windows in the living room. The owl could clearly see her, and based on the look in its eyes had been trying to rouse her for some time. 

She kicked her shoes off and stood, rolling her shoulders to try to work out some of the cricks in her neck and shoulders from sleeping on the wooden floor on the entryway. She wrenched the window open and handed the barn owl a treat from the jar beside the window. 

Now that the owl was closer, she recognized it as Neville’s owl, Aspen. If the unique coloration of some of the feathers on the bird’s wings--which had led to the bird being named after the color of the foliage of the aspen tree— hadn’t given it away, the familiar handwriting on the envelope would have. 

_Good morning, Hermione!_

_I’m glad you made it out last night— I don’t think I could have thought of a better welcome home than getting to see all of my favorite people in one place my first night back._

_I think it’ll take me a few days to get everything sorted here, and I know how busy you are with work. Do you think that maybe next weekend you could make it over for brunch on Saturday or Sunday? Probably around 11 o’clock? Let me know whichever day works best for you and I will get it all taken care of. Gran has been asking how you’ve all been doing, so I think I’ll send a message out to everyone else when Aspen comes back. Do you know if everyone ever still checks their old DA coins? That might be easier than sending him across the country if there’s a chance it’ll be seen._

_I hope to see you next weekend. I’ve got that gift for you, and I hope that I’ll have some good news to share with everyone, too. That is, if I can get a few things figured out between now and then._

_With love,_

_Neville_

Hermione wrote a quick note confirming for the next Saturday and gave it to Aspen, along with a second treat to thank him for his patience and for acting as her _de facto_ alarm clock that morning. She walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on, and stood against her counter thinking. She had one week to try to figure out how to act normal around Neville the next weekend. 

She wasn’t one to try to insert herself where there wasn’t room for her, and if beside Luna was where he wanted to be, it wasn’t her place to try to add space there. After all, it had sounded like he’d come back to England to be closer to her. It was no secret that Neville often butted heads with his fiercely independent grandmother, and if he’d braved a return to Yorkshire for Luna, it meant that they were far more serious than she could have expected. 

Luna was almost an exact inversion of everything that Hermione herself was, both mentally and physically. Where she was short and tended to lean toward the slender side— the result of a long year of malnourishment— Luna was tall and curvy, moving with grace and seeming to flow into spaces. Where Hermione’s hair was thick and the curls still tended to frizz from where she constantly ran her hands through it, Luna’s hair was long, fine, and fell in gentle waves around her face. Where Hermione tended towards the logical, rational, and understandable, Luna’s open mindedness and creativity permeated every sentence she spoke. 

Luna was perfectly lovely. 

She made her cup of tea, and while it steeped went to her room to change. The outfit that Ginny had given her had made her feel lovely the night before, but in its wrinkled state the next morning made her feel even more self conscious. 

Ginny. 

That’s what she needed. Ginny’s good humor and outside perspective could help her make heads or tails of the situation. Quickly returning to the living room, Hermione penned a quick note to Ginny, asking if she wouldn’t mind coming over for lunch. After sending the note off with her own owl, she quickly drank her too-hot tea before jumping in the shower to wash away her thoughts. Unfortunately, insecurity tended to resist even the hottest water. 

* * *

“I brought champagne and orange juice. Fetch me a glass,” Ginny called with a laugh as she stepped through the fireplace a couple of hours later. Used to Ginny’s penchant for mimosas with Saturday lunch, Hermione already had two flutes in hand as she walked towards the living room to meet her friend.

“So… where’s Neville?” Ginny asked while pouring two healthy drinks. 

“Well I reckon he’s at home,” Hermione said, ushering Ginny toward the kitchen table where their lunch was waiting for them. 

“Kicked him out already?” Ginny asked, shedding her shoes and jacket beside the couch before following.

“What? No!”

“You left together, didn’t you?” Ginny asked quizzically, one brow raised over the top of her glass. 

“Yes, we did. But we popped over to a chippy to grab something to eat and walked around the park for a little bit before going home. It’s not like he stayed here or anything.”

Ginny sat her glass down heavily and levelled Hermione with a look that was typically reserved for Ron when he’d done something particularly thick.

“What?” Hermione asked, dishing food onto both of their plates to avoid eye contact. “He didn’t have so much to drink that he couldn’t make it home last night.”

Ginny took the plate from her, eyebrows knitted. “So he came here and then left?”

“No!” Hermione cried. “He didn’t come here at all. What are you on about? We left, went to the chippy, ate in the park, and I apparated home from there. He sent me an owl this morning, so I’m assuming he went home from the park.”

Ginny cocked her head and gave Hermione another look— one that definitely confirmed that she was, in fact, Molly Weasley’s daughter.

“Hermione, I’m married, not blind. You’re expecting me to believe that Neville showed up last night looking like _that_ , sat and stared and you all night— or at least all of the parts of the night when _you_ weren’t staring at _him_ — chose to leave when you did, and you ate chips with him in the park and then went your separate ways without even a little bit of hanky panky?”

“Yes, Ginny!” Hermione said around the rim of her glass, emptying it quickly before pouring another. “And he was _not_ staring at me all night. Is that what you think?”

Ginny nodded, pushing her plate of food away, forgotten. “That’s exactly what I think! In fact, after you left, we all debated whether or not you’d even make it to your house, with the way his eyes were glued to your chest while you were sitting and your arse when you stood up to leave! Harry bet that you’d at least make it home, Ron figured you’d make it as far as the alley out back, and Seamus was convinced that you’d end up at his Gran’s and have to be quiet unless she caught you! What were you thinking?”

Hermione flushed, due to a combination of anger, embarrassment, and the glass of champagne that she’d essentially chugged. 

“Please, please, tell me that you didn’t say those things with Luna at the table!”

“Luna? Why not? She thought it was an absolute riot! Not that she took any part in the betting, mind you.”

That pit opened back up in Hermione’s stomach. Of course Luna would’ve laughed— she would’ve known the truth and wouldn’t have felt the need to contribute to the silly betting of their friends.

“Oh, Ginny, no. I won’t even be able to show my face next weekend. This is absolutely humiliating.”

“Next weekend? What’s happening next weekend?”

Hermione stood and walked to the table in the living room, grabbing the letter to give to Ginny. “Neville’s inviting us all ‘round to Yorkshire to have brunch at the manor.”

Ginny waved her off while she read the letter, worrying her lip between her teeth. “Interesting that he invited you over first thing this morning, and that he’s being so considerate of _your_ schedule. He sent you off an owl first thing this morning, but wants to contact everyone else the easiest possible way. And he said that seeing you last night was the best way to be welcomed back— and he called you his favorite person.”

“No, Ginny. He called _all of us_ his _favorite people_. Plural. And I think he knows that I’m not likely to be able to go if I don’t have advance notice and can plan around something. He knows that I usually go into work on the weekends.”

Ginny shook her head, and continued reading. “And what’s this about a gift?”

“I don’t know! He brought it up in his last letter, and he said something about it last night, too. I had assumed that it was just going to be the fact that he’s back, but this sounds like it’s an actual _thing_.”

“In your last letter?” Ginny cried, tossing the letter on the table and narrowly missing Hermione’s plate. “How often do you two talk?”

Hermione waved her wand, and a small blue box came in from the bookshelf in the living room. “Once or twice a week. Give or take. Throw that one in there.”

Ginny lifted the top from the box and her eyes flew wide as she began to root around inside. “Is there an extension charm on this box? Once or twice a week for _how long_?”

Hermione shrugged lightly, feigning nonchalance, and began ripping apart the bread on her plate. “Since he left, more or less. At first it was just about the stuff he was finding on his trip, but then it just became a routine. He’s probably one of my—”

“ _Ginny! You there?”_ came the unexpected but unmistakable voice of Harry Potter from the fireplace in the living room. 

“Can I not have a minute of peace from you, you insufferable man?” Ginny called out, but nevertheless with a smile on her face. 

_“Sorry, love. Sorry, Hermione. It’s just that Neville’s sent a note asking if we want to come by for brunch at one o’clock next Saturday. I figured it’d be all right, but I wanted to get an answer before I confirmed. Looks like Aspen has a lot of trips to make and I don’t want to keep the poor bugger waiting! Ow! Bloody owl...”_

“That’s fine, Harry. Go ahead and sign us up. _Don’t forget to ask if we can bring anything!”_ Ginny cried back to him as the sound of the floo unmistakably ended the call. “Bugger. I hope he heard that last bit. My mum would have my hide if I went to Augusta Longbottom’s without taking anything with me. What were you saying?”

“It doesn’t matter. But it isn’t like that, Gin. Besides, he’s—”

“Hold that!” Ginny cried, seizing the letter from the top of the pile in the box. “He told Harry one o’clock, but asked you to come round at eleven! I wonder what our dear Mr. Longbottom has planned for you in the two hours before everyone else shows up. Maybe he wants you to give a nice, warm welcome to his—”

“Ginny! Stop!”

Ignoring the way that Ginny was wiggling her eyebrows at her, Hermione returned to shredding the slice of bread. “He probably wants to tell me to leave him alone, now that he’s in a relationship. It’s not exactly proper to carry on correspondence like this when you’re seeing someone, is it?”

Ginny snatched up her glass and knocked it back, filling Hermione’s as well. “I think you’re going to need to take me back a step and explain. _Now_. He’s only been back for 24 hours— how’s he possibly started seeing someone else?”

Hermione shook her head, and wished— not for the first time— that she had Dumbledore’s old pensieve so she could show Ginny the conversation they’d had the night before without having to remember it for herself. “He kept talking last night about how he’d found his ‘lobster’, or whatever it was that Luna was on about. And he told me that there was a woman here that gave him shivers, kept him awake, and made his heart race— and he wasn’t willing to live without her anymore. And then there was that mess about how he’d already met her and we all knew her from Hogwarts, and then Luna showed up.”

“Right…” Ginny said, clearly not convinced. “And then Luna showed up and he stopped talking.”

“Right…” Hermione lightly mocked her, frustrated that she didn’t understand. “And then Luna showed up talking about soul mates, and told him that he didn’t have to worry about whether or not his loved him back. And he all but told me that he was back to be with this soul mate of his. I think it’s pretty obvious.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, and pulled her plate of food back in front of her and picked up her fork. “As usual, your brain is working on a plane that I can’t hope to match— and I think I’ll need fortifications here. Tell me how this all adds up to Neville having a girlfriend and telling you to go away.”

Hermione sighed, and put down the tattered remains of her bread. “Neville moves back for a girl he loves from Hogwarts. Luna shows up telling us that she’s found her soulmate and _he’s_ _someone we already know_. Tab A meets Slot B and maybe one day they’ll ask me to be godmother.”

Ginny snorted, and hurriedly finished chewing the food in her mouth. Thank Merlin that her table manners were a fair sight better than her brothers’. “You took all of that in, and came to the conclusion that Luna and Neville are together— and as such he’s going to tell you to go kicking cauldrons down the street? Don’t you think we’d know if they were?”

“No, of course not.” Hermione shook her head. “Neville’s been out of the country and Luna’s not one to share her personal life until she’s decided that the stars have all aligned.”

Ginny laughed, and took a drink of her mimosa to wash down her bite of food. “I hear you. But I really don’t think that’s what’s going on here. You should’ve seen him looking at you. That really wasn’t the look that you give someone who you want to leave you alone. It was more like the look that you give to someone that you want to _get_ alone. Besides, I was there at Hogwarts with them alone when you three went off Horcrux hunting, remember? Yeah, they became friends well enough, but he asked about you all the time. If I knew where you were, if you were safe, if I’d heard from you— all that.”

Hermione shook her head at that. “Neville’s been our friend since we were eleven. Of course he was worried about us.”

Ginny shook her head. “No, no. Not ‘you three’. _You_. ‘Have you heard from Hermione? Any news from Hermione? Word from Hermione?’ Not that I ever had anything to tell him, mind. But he was curious. Besides, didn’t he ask you to the Yule Ball before he asked me?”

Hermione shook her head. “Yes, but I was one of the only girls who treated him halfway decently. I had to tell him no because Viktor’d asked already.”

“Well I can tell you, I’m glad that he asked me because I never would’ve been able to go otherwise. But I’d be lying if I said his attention was on me all night. Although, in fairness, every eye in the room was on you that night.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione took a moment to take a bite of the lunch that had grown cold while they talked. 

“Why would it matter if he and Luna _were_ together? Not that I think that they are, mind you. Do you _want_ to be the woman that he moved back for?”

Hermione finished chewing, and leaned back in her chair. “I’d be lying if I said that it wouldn’t be nice. He’s been my friend since we were firsties, and he’s probably one of my closest friends now. He’s smarter than most give him credit for, he’s passionate, and he’s… Neville.”

“Not to mention,” Ginny said with a devilish grin, “he’s incredibly fit and happens to look amazing wielding a sword. Can’t say I would mind letting him take a swing at me with his own sword of Gryffindor, if you get what I mean.”

Hermione blushed again, but couldn’t help but smile. “No, there’s that too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I haven't got a ton of time (I'm in law school) but I have this idea and I want to try to finish this story. Stay safe out there.


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